I Lied
by Kat J
Summary: Jason and Elizabeth After showing up where he wasn't wanted, will Elizabeth accept Jason's admission? Sequel to 'I Was Wrong'.


This is a sequel to I Was Wrong. I disclaim. I don't own the characters yadda yadda...

_________________

  
  
  
  


Watching from her window, she didn't even try to be discreet as she stared out at Jason. Wilma purred and rubbed against Elizabeth's calf. "He'll go away eventually Wilma, don't you worry," she said, picking up the cat and smoothing her hand under her chin, "he always does." 

  
  


The rain sang against the roof, it's muted notes swirling around Elizabeth's ears like a dull roar. Everything seemed distant. The faint ticking of the wall clock, the blurred storm warning from the old radio in the corner, the soft purring of Wilma were all deaf to her ears.

  
  


The musty wood sparked in the fireplace, blazing red against the grey brick. The island winds were alive and made the small home rattle and churn with cold air. It had been awhile since the fire had been lit and the old wood was showing it's decay. Elizabeth lifted the poker into the heart of the charing pine she'd ordered special because it not only keep the insects away, it also reminded her of summer out on the lake when she was a child. Who would have thought she would be nostalgic? The crackle and heat of the flames made her aware once again of Jason standing in the freezing cold while the thunder pounded the sky and the rain beat his flesh. 

  
  


She watched him intently. He looked warn, like the old bottle, that was once the home of five-year old cognac, that sat over the mantle. The label was scratched and the cap had been misplaced. It had been some time since she found it lying on the beach, it's neck immersed in the salty sea and it's base rocking against the sand. It hadn't mattered how the french brandy even got to a place so remote, she was just intrigued by the design and the intense colour of the glass. Her imagination got away with her and she found herself inventing stories of drunken socialites on their big yachts sipping the fruity drinks and warming the liquid with their perfect hands through perfect crystal glass. 

  
  


Until then, it hadn't occurred to her why she would keep it. Why she would display it so proudly and make it a fixture in an artists world, where canvas' stretched the hallway and paint splattered the floor. It would have been logical to tack up a piece of her art, but she hadn't. 

  
  


It had been so much easier for her to be angry and guarded than to let him in again and risk being destroyed piece by agonizing piece. But in her heart of hearts she knew that even a moment alone with Jason was worth a lifetime of loneliness; that she would give it all up to have him hold her one last time and just whisper her name and let the wind carry it off and have it saved like an echo for another day. 

-

  
  


He watched her like a man terrified to move. That if he did, she would vanish and he would have nothing left. Not that he had anything to begin with. Not since he heard of her death, and even though he never believed it, the thought sent a shockwave of pain straight to his heart. His mind clicked as steadily as an engine igniting to life. He needed her. No, not just needed, it was a deeper feeling. A stronger pull than he ever knew. It was like his insides were being torn out and he watched helplessly as the very tender spot in his heart that she'd always occupied came undone. 

  
  


Dreams that he didn't think he was capable of having started to haunt him in his sleep. Her skin; creamy white and as perfect as a china doll's appeared before his eyes blotched with red streaks, the way it did when she was embarrassed, hot or simply happy. Her nose, the perfect button that it was, snuck into his thoughts when he least expected. Her eyes, shimmering and a cross between gray and blue under dark light, teased him. The worse of it all, were her lips. Her lips that displayed a crimson stain darker than blood called to him; begged for him to kiss her; taunted him that she was gone and it was his own fault.

  
  


Watching her from his place on the beach, he caught a glimpse of her and that's all he thought he needed. He was wrong. Seeing the flush of her cheeks, the stain of her lips, the smoldering passion in her eyes, he knew he couldn't give her up this time without a fight. 

  
  


He knows her better than he knows himself. Knows that she can be shy and quiet, when she's reflecting or working on a piece. That art is her world and that he used to fit into it; that she had painted him the wind and he had still let her walk away. That she is giving and caring and so full of life that he used to watch her and wonder about all the things he took for granted. That she opened the world for him and he let her down. And though she tries to deny it; to hide from it, she is the most sultry and sexy woman he's ever known. And he's hoping this time, he can do more than try. That, if nothing else, they can at least have the wind one last time. 

  
  


Without her, he woke so many nights in a cold sweat that he forgot what it felt like to be warm and safe. She was his warmth and without her all he felt was chilled to the bone. It was a strange thing that he'd never felt the sting of winter until he heard of her supposed death, and now, ever since the words entered his brain, every time he stepped outside all he felt was numb and frozen. 

  
  


What had he done? He'd let her walk away again. He'd watched as she drowned in front of him and sank to the bottom of the ocean and he hadn't even offered his hand. Of course, he was a scared, spineless chicken when he thought about it. Hadn't he offered her his hand before, only to be rejected for a life less fulfilled. How would he deal with that rejection again? 

  
  


And even as he thought it, he knew beyond any reasonable doubt, that if he tried, if he stood his ground and let himself be open enough, there would be no way she would reject him. After all, she was just as scarred, just as lost, as he was. 

  
  


The rain poured down in heavy streaks and Jason didn't seem to notice. Didn't seem to care that his dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes, making it harder for him to see her through the solid pane of glass just past the sand where she stood in her home. Safe. Protected. Dry. He felt his body shake from standing so long and from the rush of adrenaline that had finally passed, but he stood rooted in the same spot she'd left him. He vowed never to leave. 

---

Finally she'd had enough, she ripped open the door and marched up to him, not intimidated by his large frame. Poking an angry finger into his chest she became aware that he was still without a shirt and that although the night air was chilly, he was enticingly warm, it sent a tremor through her body. 

  
  


Her eyes were a steely gray when she looked at him. "Are you insane? What, you're just going to stand here all night?"

  
  


"As long as it takes," he answered calmly, silently marvelling at the anger and frustration he saw generating behind those wonderfully gray-blue eyes of hers. 

  
  


"As long as it takes for what?" Dimly she was aware that she was starting to shiver and that the hard rain was beginning to penetrate her blouse, but she refused to budge. If Jason could stand it, so could she.

  
  


The corner of his mouth turned up; a small crooked smile that wasn't really humourous. "I'll stand here until you believe me."

  
  


Elizabeth eyes flamed and the gray in her eyes glistened silver against the rising moon. "Believe you about what?"

  
  


"That I love you." 

  
  


"It's not a matter of believing you or not, so don't even think of blaming me. I told you that love was gone. It's not my fault if you're stubborn and get pneumonia standing out here. Just go!"

  
  


"You said the love was gone, but you never said you didn't love me. If you don't love me, then tell me. Tell me, and I'll leave," he taunted. 

  
  


"Please go," she pleaded, rubbing her arms, avoiding his eyes.

  
  


Jason stood, his expression unchanged, his feet still firmly planted in the sand. "You can't say it, can you? Why are the words so hard for you, Elizabeth?" 

  
  


"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go." Her patience was waning and her temper was flaring, and Jason still took no heed to her words. He wanted to hear it from her lips. Knowing she would never say the one thing that would turn him away. The one thing, he knew would be a lie. "Okay, I believe you, is that what you wanted to hear? I believe you love me. I know how you feel and you know how I feel. Well?" The silence ticked by and the rain seemed to pound harder and drench her skin as well as her anger. "Listen, I'm telling you I believe you... now leave."

  
  


Ignoring her words, he focussed on her lips. Her teeth cut along her bottom lip, stabbing into the tender flesh giving it a distinguished pout. "I can tell when you're lying. Your nose scrunches up and your eyes get small," he said taking a step toward her and touching his hand just barely to her damp skin. His fingers ran over her jaw and then smoothed into her hair. "You bite your lip too," he whispered tugging with his thumb so she would release it. 

  
  


In a moment of weakness she was almost sucked in. The allure of his voice, the way it came out low and raspy, and the touch of his calloused hands almost had her agreeing with him; almost had her falling into his spell once again intoxicated by his beauty and strength and touch. But a moment of clarity sparked through her as lightning cut through the sky. "Don't you get it Jason? I can't do this anymore!" 

  
  


The anger swirled inside his head igniting a raw hunger that burned deep in his stomach. He would not walk away again, no matter how hard she tried to make him go. "I can't just leave you."

  
  


Elizabeth shook her head. A laugh started in her stomach and gurgled up through her throat. "You don't get it, do you? It's over. Go!"

  
  


He claimed another step toward her. "It's not over, it'll never be over between us."

  
  


"Jason," she protested and suddenly felt too tired to fight anymore. 

  
  


"I-I looked for you," he began and her head shot up, her eyes connecting with his. "I thought I knew where you'd be. I thought you might go to-"

  
  


"Italy," she finished for him, closing her eyes at the sudden burst of memories. She was silent for a long time and Jason steadied himself for rejection again. Finally she spoke, "I did go there. But everywhere I turned, there you were. A guy on a moped...someone wearing a leather jacket...then I... I went to see the glassblowers."

  
  


His brows quirked up; he didn't even try to deny his surprise. "You did?"

  
  


She nodded and turned away from him. "It was just like you said, golds and paint all over it but the colour, oh God Jason, the colour was amazing."

  
  


He smiled as he watched some of the spirit she had once possessed twinkle in her eyes. She was excited and alive and damn him if he wasn't gorging on every spark she threw out. 

"Dammit Jason, I tried like hell to get over you, but you're a part of me," she admitted defeated. 

Her words thrilled him, sending a shiver down his spine. Watching her, he waited for her to continue. 

  
  


"I lied Jason, I do love you. But I can't go back...we can't be," she struggled for the right words, finally finding some substitute for words that didn't exist, "we can't be what we were. Friends, more than friends, not lovers though, we were never that, were we?" The tone was meant to be sarcastic but it came across as mournful and with a hint of regret. 

  
  
  
  


"We can. Elizabeth, when we first met, we were both in dark places. We felt nothing, but somehow we managed to find each other. We were friends when you needed me to be, more than friends when you weren't even available and never lovers because I was too God-damned scared to need you like I do. If we were lovers, I'd never be able to get you out of my system. Once we were connected, you'd be inside me just as much as I was in you. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't risk losing myself inside you and maybe one day having to give you up. I'd rather die than give you up, Elizabeth. But it turns out, I was wrong. That even though we've never made love physically, that I've never touched you like that or held you so close that I could feel your heart, you're still inside me. You're right here." Taking her hand, he held it against his chest letting her feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips. His skin jumped and quivered as she touched him and she knew he was right; that she felt it to. 

  
  


Pulling her hand away, surprising them both, she ran from him. Tears clouded her vision and her fingers ached to touch him again. 

  
  


Jogging to catch up to her, Jason grabbed her around the waist and in his haste to get a hold of her, he tackled her to the ground. They rolled on the wet sand together, her fists flying wildly against his chest as the sobs wracked her body. Barely able to catch her breath, she practically choked on her own saliva and self-pity. 

  
  


Jason's bare chest pressed into hers and he could feel the thin material of her blouse separate and through the gaping holes where the buttons had given way, their flesh was meshing together. 

  
  


His breath came in hot, heavy spurts over her cheek and it felt nice compared to the damp ground and assaulting rain and she hated that she liked the feeling. 

  
  


Jason let out a heavy sigh, cursing the accident that made him unable to imagine, unable to draw. If he were able to be Jason Quartermaine again; a thought which normally angered him, but now he wanted more than anything to change back, if only for a minute, so he could paint the wildly angry girl underneath him. Her hair a wavy mass of vines interlocked among thickets of curls would have the canvas crying for the chestnut brown paint that would make it possible. Her eyes, a strange mix of blues and gray depending on the light, were glowing silver under the moon and he wished he could capture it. To immortalize her image so people might believe him that a goddess such as her exists. 

  
  


Taking her hands in his, he pinned her down and got right in her face. Her body still shook under his. "I don't need you," she said weakly, "I don't need you." The moon shone into her tear-filled eyes casting them in sparkly silver hues. And then suddenly she wasn't fighting him anymore, and instead of pushing him away, she was desperately clinging to him, trying to get closer.

  
  


His eyes were a stormy blue when he looked back at her, darker than the clouds. "I know," he agreed, then his lips moved over hers softly, "but I need you."

  
  
  
  


The End

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
